and death must stalk across the stage. The stakes for which men bid must be there, and also the
Stars silent over us,
Graves under us silent.
Jealousy is the reflection of a shameful way of life. It is trivial, mean, parochial, the rage of talk for a day among the bourgeois of Russia, interesting now, as opposed to the story of Antony and Cleopatra, interesting for ever.
"And what do you think of woman?" asked a Kief friend.
"Why," said I, "the beast was a beast until a woman loved him. Then he became a man, even a prince. So it is with all of us. When a woman kisses a man, even an ugly, wretched, despised creature, he knows that he has found grace and is precious in the sight of God. When a woman smiles on a man she bids him live.
"The world is kept fresh by women and children, by their faith and their influence and their prayers. It would have rotted away but for them.
"The love and the faith of women empower men to do things. No man who is out on the adventurous tracks of life but has women behind him, and their love even far away keeps him alive. A woman has cords from her soul to the far-off hands of man, and at her will can empower men to lift their hands and do things. She has spiritual nervous force."
